


Misspelled

by newtisgood (gurajiorasu)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurajiorasu/pseuds/newtisgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Office-worker!Newt went to a coffee shop. Barista!Minho just couldn’t spell Newt’s name right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misspelled

”Good afternoon, Sir. Welcome to the Maze, today we’re brewing our special Robusta beans,” Minho chanted his greetings without even thinking about it. The coffee shop was pretty much crammed up with salary men trying to fix themselves with a quick lunch and it was driving Minho crazy. When he finally looked up, though, a wide smile bloomed across his face. The guest was definitely scorching hot and such a sight for his sore eyes, “What would you like to order?”

“Americano,” the blonde guy in rolled-up white shirt said, “Iced, please.”

“One iced Americano, alright,” Minho punched it in to the cashier machine. He shifted to get the cup and the Sharpie and asked, “Your name, Sir?”

“Newt,” the blonde answered. He looked rather distracted with his smart phone on his hand.

Minho smirked. He scribbled on the cup right away, “ _Noot_. Okay. Anything else?”

Newt immediately looked up and furrowed his brows on the cup, “It’s Newt. N. E. W–” he stopped when he realized that Minho was staring at him with a playful smirk on his face. He flashed a smirk too and said, “Ah, yeah, whatever. Just that.”

“Okay, Mr.  _Noot_. That would be $2.15,” Minho said while preparing the said Americano. When he’s back with the beverage, Newt had already put the money on the counter. “Your Americano, Sir,” Minho slid the cup to Newt and took the money.

“Thank you,” Newt said. He looked at his wristwatch and threw an almost apologetic smile to Minho before dashing out so quickly.

Minho smiled back.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, Sir–”

“One iced Americano, please,” Newt cut with a smirk. He leaned on the counter, his phone was nowhere to be seen. He wore a casual t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans that fitted him perfectly. He came much earlier than the day before so there was barely anyone in the coffee shop yet.

“Ah, Mr..,” Minho took the cup and the Sharpie.

“Newt. N. E. W. T.”

Minho grinned and chuckled a bit, “Alright. Mr.  _Newt_. Anything else?”

“Just that, I suppose, given the fact that I’m alone here, if you haven’t noticed,” Newt said with a suggestive smile. His eyes followed Minho while the barista prepared his Americano. He noticed the name and laughed a bit, “Oh, Jesus. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’m honored that you mistook me for the ultimately famous guy, but name’s Minho, not Jesus,” Minho responded while putting ice in. He finished up and gave it to Newt, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you right. Your name is not News? Because you look like one, honestly. Hot and dandy.”

Newt didn’t see it coming, of course. He gaped in amazement and amused laughter flew out from his mouth. He shook his head, took the drink, paid for it, and didn’t leave the counter. He stayed with one elbow on the counter, supporting his weight.

Minho resumed his task which he was doing when Newt entered the coffee shop. While wiping the counter clean, he noticed that Newt was intending to stay so he initiated a conversation, “Haven’t seen you before. New here? College? I thought you’re one of those workaholic dudes that work on that office tower across the street, judging by your outfit yesterday. But now you look too young for that.”

“I’m a second year undergrad and no, I’m not really new. I’ve been here a thousand times before,” Newt answered, sipping his coffee.

“And that would be a lie,” Minho scoffed, “I would definitely remember you if you’ve been here.”

Newt laughed, “Alright, I’m new.”

“So, transfer student, then?”

Newt laughed even more, “That’s a lie too! You actually believe that?!”

“No offense, but you look young enough to be a sophomore,” Minho threw his defense.

Newt rolled his eyes. He heard that a lot already. “I’m one of those workaholic dudes, effective from tomorrow.”

“Oh, nice. That means you’ll come by often,” Minho grinned.

“Don’t be so confident on that.”

“Oh, believe me. You’ll need a good dose of caffeine if you’re about to work on one of those prestigious companies,” Minho said, knowing smile rolled on his face as he said so, “Americano would soon transform into double espresso; a plain surge of caffeine to kick your brain straight into working. Have my words.”

“Still, I might find another coffee shop,” Newt shrugged.

Minho raised one of his eyebrows, “Oh, you won’t, Mister.”

“Why not? Look, you didn’t even get my name right,” Newt chuckled and then added, “ _Twice_.”

“Well,” Minho shrugged a bit, “Probably you should come here every day, then. You know, so I can get your name right.”

Newt wanted to say something on that but the door was opened and a group of students went in. He noticed that he had to move away from the counter and thus he decided that he might as well leave. He took his Americano and lifted it a bit towards Minho as he stepped backwards, away from the counter. Inaudibly he mouthed, “ _Get their names right_.”

Minho chuckled and mouthed back, “ _See you tomorrow_.”

  

* * *

 

On the said tomorrow, Newt did come again. He popped up during lunch time and he had to queue to even get near Minho. Minho’s smile grew more prominent as Newt got closer and when it was Newt’s turn, Newt was also smiling wide.

“So, double espresso?” Minho asked with a playful note on his words.

“Not yet,” Newt answered simply. He peered to the showcase, “Iced Americano and… sandwich?”

“Ah!” Minho’s expression turned horrid. He leaned over the counter and looked around as if he was about to say something really dangerous. Then, he whispered, “I will only tell this to you but, trust me, the sandwich tastes like Styrofoam. Go for the quiche. My personal favorite.”

“Ah..,” Newt nodded like he just heard wisdom, “Quiche then.”

Minho grinned. He moved to prepare the Americano and take out the quiche, “Take away?”

“Yes, please.”

Minho wrapped the cup with a piece of napkin before handing it to Newt. The person behind Newt was getting impatient so they finished the payment quickly and Newt only nodded his goodbye before dashing back to his office.

The quiche was indeed so good, Newt thought while munching it slowly. He lost the napkin and chuckled to himself.

There, on the cup, Minho had obviously misspelled Newt’s name. Again.

He also gave a little note and a little smiley because apparently that’s something that Minho would do.

> _WOOT._
> 
> _Because you make me go woot! :D_

  

* * *

 

Days went like a breeze after that. Every noon, Newt would queue on the coffee shop, order iced Americano, and let Minho pick his lunch. Minho would wrap the cup tightly with napkin every time, and Newt would have the silliest grin when he lost the napkin on his desk later.

Minho was obviously getting further away from Newt’s name. He put notes when the coffee shop was not so crowded and sometimes he’d draw cute little things in advance – Newt imagined Minho drew those things carefully with Newt in his mind early before opening the shop. And it was cute; the entirety of it was.

Newt kept some of his favorite cups. He wiped them clean and put them neatly on the corner of his desk. He couldn’t pile up so many because it would be too obvious, but he kept enough to make him smile every now and then. Three was his limit and his heart died a bit every time he had to throw out a cup to make place for a new one.

There was one with the name of  _GROOT_. Minho had drawn an absurd figure that might or might not supposed to be Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy.

There was another one with  _BOOT_  scribbled on it. There’s a cute monkey with boots drawn on it and Newt wondered on what age Minho watched Dora the Explorer. And for what purpose.

And then there was another one.  _Without you I’m NAUGHT_ , it said. There’s a tiny little heart scribbled on the end of it and Newt didn’t really know how to interpret it. Or more like, Newt was rather afraid in interpreting it – afraid that he might be over reading into it. He put this particular cup behind the others and he looked at it when the day felt like nothing but a living hell.

It was after roughly a month that Newt had to skip going to the coffee shop for the very first time. Work was piling up on him and he didn’t even have the time to breathe. He took a glance every once in a while through the window behind him (he discovered that he could see a glimpse of Minho from there if he tried hard enough) and he felt terribly bad because he couldn’t be there, in the line to get his cup of the day.

Newt groaned and decided that gazing only made everything worse. He focused himself to the task he had in hand and psyched himself into forgetting his cup of coffee. He was halfway to succeeding that when his coworker, Thomas, startled him with a paper bag being dropped right in front of him onto his desk.

“What’s this, Tommy?” Newt arched his eyebrow, annoyed.

“A barista with ridiculously fabulous hair tried to search for  _‘Newt with golden hair’_ so I did him a favor,” Thomas shrugged, “I don’t know they do delivery service.”

Newt’s heart stopped in an instance. He knew a certain barista with ridiculously fabulous hair. He  _knew_ for sure. Newt looked at the paper bag with anticipation bubbled in his chest. With a whispered, “ _They don’t_ ,” Newt shoved Thomas away.

Newt opened the paper bag and he found a folded paper. He opened it and Minho’s handwriting greeted him.

> _I might or might not convinced that you got your butt glued to that chair now. Anyway, have the delicious quiche and a comforting brownie._
> 
> _You’re welcome._
> 
> _(Told you Americano would turn into double espresso sooner or later)_

Newt whipped his head to look at Minho. Minho was surprisingly outside the coffee shop with one hand on his hip and another one shielding his eyes. He was looking up at Newt. A grin bloomed when he noticed that Newt was looking at him too and he made a salute pose before entering the coffee shop.

It felt surreal for Newt.

Newt returned to the paper bag and he took out the quiche and the brownie. A warm cup was there so he took it out too. It was double espresso.

Newt got his cup of the day, after all.

He read what was written in it and he decided right away that it was a keeper.

> _CUTE_
> 
> _Because you are ;)_

  

* * *

 

Newt fell back to his routine of visiting the coffee shop once he was freed from the piling work. Minho seemed to be thrilled to have him back and the coffee cup chronicle continued. Newt started to take lunch break later than usual so he could spend more time with Minho without bothering the line and Minho started to order for Newt without even asking.

Their conversations went smoother every day. It felt like they had known each other for the longest time. They never take a step to bring what they had outside the coffee shop, though. It just didn’t come to them. The coffee shop was their place to be together and they had a feeling that they could keep doing it that way forever. Newt would come every day and Minho would always be there to welcome him.

Unfortunately, reality begged to differ. Newt never stopped coming to the coffee shop, but Minho suddenly was not there to greet him with his silly grin and ridiculous scribbles. Newt regretted that he had never asked about Minho’s number or place. He regretted that he didn’t want to know more.

On the first day, Newt thought that Minho was just taking a leave.

On the second day, Newt started to ask about Minho’s whereabouts to the other baristas but no one seemed to know a thing.

On the third day, Newt went back to his office without even making order.

On the fourth, Newt just pressed his cheek to his window, not even trying to go to the coffee shop anymore.

On the fifth, he started to despise all the cups that he had on his desk and threw them to the garbage.

On the sixth, Newt swore he would never come to the coffee shop again and on the seventh, he drank himself to sleep.

Eighth day was Monday. It was a new day, a new week.

Newt walked into his office without even looking at the coffee shop across of it. He had done a mistake, and the mistake was taking the silly jokes of the silly barista too seriously. He didn’t even know why he was so upset. It was just so ridiculous; Minho was just a barista that misspelled his name every single time.

Newt brought a sandwich from home that day. He was so not going to step out for lunch.

His plan was working smoothly until Thomas, again, startled him.

“Not going to the coffee shop?” Thomas plopped his butt to Newt’s desk when the lunch break was almost over.

“Nope,” Newt answered shortly.

“Weird,” Thomas crinkled his lips, “I thought you would because your barista was there, looking like a lost kid. He’s not wearing the shop’s uniform, though.”

Newt’s eyes widened almost comically. He almost jumped to his feet but his bitter-self held him back.

Minho was just a barista that misspelled his name every single time, he reminded himself.

Thomas seemed to notice this inner conflict because then, he stepped to the window and said, “Oh, look. There he is. You sure you don’t want to go there? He looks like he’s not going to stay, you know.”

Newt almost –  _almost_  – turned to look outside the window but he resisted in time. He just rolled his eyes and pretended that he was savoring his lunch.

“Yeap. He’s leaving,” Thomas chirped, “Oh, man. He brought a big luggage with him.”

Newt’s ear twitched.

“And tickets.”

Newt put down his lunch and balled his fists.

“And passport.”

Newt was really tempted to just strangle Thomas to death.

“Oh, God. Is he going back to Japan or China or Korea or wherever he came from?!”

That was it. Newt stood up and dashed his way out of his office. He stopped right in front of his office, across from Minho who did look like a lost kid. He didn’t have any luggage or tickets or passport with him, but Newt couldn’t care less about that right then.

They stared right into each other’s eyes for a couple of minutes, taking it in that they had each other in front of them. Newt could see when the light of idea lit across Minho’s face. The next thing that he knew, Minho was rushing into the coffee shop.

Somehow, Newt knew what he had to do. He crossed the road, entered the shop, and set his eyes on the counter. It was the only way they knew for communicating – It was their way of talking.

Minho was there with an apron that he wore carelessly. Another barista that looked like he was just being run over by a truck stood next to him, apron-less.

Newt arranged his breath. He commanded his body to stop trembling. Then, he stepped forward, towards the counter. With a shaking voice, he said, “One iced Americano, please.”

“Coming right up,” Minho hastily took the cup and the sharpie. He prepared the drink like he always did and, while doing so, he blabbered, “See, Newt, a lot happened in the past week. I graduated. I– I got my Master degree. I applied to a company, got called for interview, went for that interview, and got accepted. Long story short, I’m not going to have my part time job here again. I won’t be here when you come for your lunch break. I won’t be here to scribble silly names on your cup. So–”

Newt looked as Minho slid the drink to him. There was no napkin wrapped around the cup, so Newt could read what was written there directly. Newt stared at it for a good while, and then he laughed, “Oh, you didn’t.”

Minho shyly smirked, “Well, I just did.”

“You’re lame.”

“You like it anyway,” Minho muttered. Then, with eyes full of hope, he asked, “So?”

Newt bit his lip and, finally, nodded, “ _Yes_.”

Minho exhaled a long relieved breath and a bright smile spread across his face. He reached across the counter and hugged Newt tightly.

Newt groaned, pretending that he was annoyed by it.

People around them applauded and Minho bowed proudly to them like a star receiving an award. He took off his apron, gave it to its rightful owner, and walked out from the counter. With an arm around Newt’s shoulder, he escorted Newt back to his office.

“So, when will you be leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“You said you got accepted to a company–”

“Oh, it’s here. A floor above your office.”

“What the hell, Minho?!”

“What?”

“I thought you’re going to the Arctic or something. Geez, we even had a dramatic scene like that!”

“Aw, you like it anyway.”

“Shut up.”

.

.

.

Newt put the newest cup to his desk. This one was surely a treasure.

> _NEWT you go out with me?_


End file.
